Day Will Come
by ladybugbirdie42
Summary: Toris does his best to take care of his two younger brothers, but nothing ever seems to go right for them. Fortunately, he has friends who are more than willing to help out. Now, whether or not he'll allow himself to accept their help is something else entirely.
1. Chapter 1

_Am I just posting every story with Lithuania I have written in celebration of Lithuania's 100th year anniversary? Yes, yes, I am._

* * *

The school library was silent and empty save for the librarian typing on her computer in her office. She had long before accepted the presence of the ten-year-old who sat alone at the table in the far corner every day after school until 3:35.

He sat quietly, doing homework or reading a book he picked from one of the many shelves that filled the library. And every day at 3:35 he'd pack up all his belongings, place the book back in its place on the shelf if he has taken one that day, and leave.

Usually the school library wasn't open to students that long, but she wasn't about to turn him away for no reason. It's not as if he was bothering her. He was barely even there.

3:35. She looked up to see the boy leaving and smiled at him. "Bye."

He gave her a small smile in return. "Bye."

* * *

The halls were always empty by the time Raivis emerged from the library. He preferred them that way. During the school day the halls were always crowded with people shoving and yelling, and Raivis's incredibly small stature made it nearly impossible to get through.

But now it was quiet. All of the students had either gone home or were in some classroom for the Afterschool Program.

The lights were dimmed to save energy, so when he pushed open the doors of the front entrance of the school, the sun was blinding. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light.

Once he could actually keep his eyes open without pain, he frowned.

 _Where is he?_

A few minutes turned to ten, and Raivis sat down with his back to one of the columns that made up the school's entryway. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he heard the pounding of feet running on the sidewalk. He grabbed his bag and stood up as his brother ran up to him.

"Sorry. . . I'm late," he managed to gasp out through heavy breaths.

"What took you so long?" Raivis demanded, placing his hands on his hips (though it was hardly intimidating). His brother was too particular about punctuality to be running this late for no reason.

"Erm . . ." He pushed up his glasses and offered his frowning younger brother a slightly sheepish grin. "I was . . . finishing a test . . . Look, I'll make it up to you. How about we go out for ice cream?"

That seemed to be enough to mollify him. He happily went on ahead, looking back at Eduard over his shoulder and chiding him for being so slow.

And Eduard sighed in relief, glad to have distracted his brother before he noticed his soaked bag.

* * *

"I heard you were late picking up Raivis today."

Eduard looked up from the dish he was drying, trying to gauge whether or not his brother was mad at him. It had been said casually, like he was simply trying to start a conversation, but Eduard could never be too sure. His brother had always been surprisingly hard to read.

Toris hadn't even looked at him, focusing instead on the dishes he was washing.

He looked back down at his own dish. "Um, yeah. I was finishing a test."

Toris made a quiet humming noise. "I wasn't aware you could stay that long after a class to finish a test. Then again, I haven't been in school for awhile, so I could be wrong."

He wasn't, of course. Eduard swallowed nervously. He really didn't like where this was going. "Um, well, I was making up a test, actually."

"That must have been a short test."

Shoot. "Yeah, it was."

"I don't remember you missing any days recently. Unless" – at this he finally looked at Eduard, giving him a stern look – "you've been skipping class."

Eduard was taken aback. "I-I haven't been –"

Toris shut the water off, now turning to face him. His expression softened. "Ed, if there's something wrong, you know you can talk to me about it, right?"

Eduard sighed, putting down the plate he'd been holding. "There's nothing wrong."

"Ed – "

"Besides, shouldn't you be more concerned about Raivis? You know those kids are still giving him a hard time."

"So you admit that Raivis getting picked on is a problem, but you don't acknowledge that kids picking on you is an issue?"

He knew.

"What makes you think somebody's picking on me?" he asked, looking away.

It was stupid, and he knew it. It was obvious that he was lying, and he knew that Toris was extremely good at picking up on that sort of thing.

He could feel Toris's eyes on him, studying him. After a moment he heard him sigh and turn away. "I don't know." And with that he left the kitchen.

Eduard picked up the towel and plate again to finish drying and putting away the dishes.

He knew. He had to know. He wouldn't have brought it up otherwise.

But he had let him off easy, hadn't pushed him too far. And that Eduard couldn't understand.

* * *

 _Snitches get stitches, Raivis._


	2. Chapter 2

"You look terrible."

"It's been a rough week," Toris replied with a small, strained smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. Arthur offered him the cup of tea, and he accepted it with a more natural smile of gratitude.

"Job hunting?" Arthur asked, glancing at the newspaper Toris was reading.

His smile immediately fell, and he looked down, shoulders caving in slightly. "I lost my job. . ."

Arthur frowned. "You're much too young to be worrying about that sort of thing."

Not meeting his eyes, Toris murmured, "But I want to help out as much as I can. . ." It wasn't a lie exactly. Just . . . slightly misleading.

With a sigh, Arthur sat down in the chair beside him.

"I think I may be able to help if you're interested." Toris's eyes met his with a questioning look, signaling him to go on. "I have a half-brother. He's . . . significantly wealthier than I am and has been looking for, erm, a housekeeper of sorts? He's a bit hard to get along with, but I'm sure the job will pay well as he's awfully generous with his money."

Toris chewed on his lip, mulling it over. Finally, he asked, "Is-is it all right if I only work afternoon shifts?"

"It should be fine." He stood up. "I'll go arrange a meeting for you."

* * *

Toris glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand and then back up at the big neon letters on the front of the building for at least the fifth time, as if doing so would somehow make the building in front of him change into something else, wondering once again if there had been some sort of mistake.

 _Why a bowling alley?_

With a deep breath in some vain effort to diminish his ever-growing anxiety, he forced himself to enter the building, deciding that if there truly had been a mistake, he wasn't going to find out just standing there. And it certainly wouldn't do to be late if this was where the interview was to be held.

"Um, I-I'm looking for a Mr. Alfred Jones," he told a lady behind the counter, already feeling embarrassed at the possibility of him not being there.

The lady smiled sweetly at him. "He's waiting for you at Lane 4, dear."

Toris nodded and quickly left to find Lane 4, feeling a tiny bit of the tension in his chest drain away at finally knowing for certain he was in the right place, though he couldn't help but still be thrown off by the odd choice of setting for a job interview.

"Hey!" The loud voice immediately broke through his train of thought, and he found himself flinching before he could stop himself. "You must be Toris, right?"

"Um, y-yes. Hello."

"Great! Have a seat, man," he said, gesturing towards a seat on the other side of the table. "Bumpers, or no?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"For what?" He grinned, and when Toris opened his mouth to try to explain, he cut him off with a chuckle. "I'm just messin' with ya. I do that to Artie all the time. You kinda talk like him, you know that?"

Toris blinked, cocking his head. "Do I?"

"Yeah. He's so uptight. You both need to loosen up." Toris looked away in shame, but was quickly drawn back as Alfred continued. "So, yeah, like I was saying: Do you usually bowl with bumpers or without?"

"Wait, we're bowling?"

Alfred gave him a confused look. "Well, yeah, why else would I invite you to a bowling alley?"

"I thought this was a job interview?" Toris felt dizzy. This was all moving too fast, and nothing was happening even remotely the way he had thought it would.

"If it'll help you relax, you already got the job. So now it's time to cut loose and have some fun!"

Toris stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're going to give me the job, just like that?"

"Why not? After all, Artie recommended you. And if you can get him to like you that much, you've gotta be a pretty amazing person."

Toris blushed and looked down, resisting the impulse to deny his statement. Instead, he quickly changed the subject. "I don't know how to bowl," he mumbled.

"You don't know how to bowl." Alfred repeated, staring down at him. "How do you not know how to bowl?"

Toris stammered, trying to formulate a coherent response, but Alfred reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up and leading him to the rack of bowling balls. He picked up a ball and placed it into Toris's hands. As soon as he let go, Toris nearly dropped it.

"Whoops. I always overestimate how much people can hold. Sorry! How 'bout we try this one instead?"

Once they had gotten a bowling ball that Toris could at least mostly hold, Alfred walked him over to the top of their lane.

"Okay, so you just hold it like this, and roll it down the lane!" and he mimed the motion of throwing a bowling ball.

Toris tried to mimic his actions and watched as his bowling ball crawled down the lane, thinking to himself all the while that that probably wasn't quite right.

"Er, maybe try for a little more power next time," Alfred suggested, staring after the ball. Would it even make it down?

The ball tilted too far to the right side and dropped down into the gutter. Toris glanced up at Alfred. "That's bad, right?"

Alfred scratched the back of his neck, looking away. "Well… It's not… good…"

…

"Ya want bumpers?"


End file.
